Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Dublin City Jazz Session

Vol. I

I never found true happiness
till I put my butt on the road,
simple thoughts over simple things,
simple values over sorrow pleas,
transforming what's not to touch,
endless commentaries that shutters
what a beach boy said,

Back vocal lyrics
over asthmatics senses
shallow holes filled of nefarious hands
struggling to go afloat,

White is the sand that lies beneath
the deep of the ocean,
remember one thing and don’t loose your grip
true lies within us all,

Relaxing the back in a nice black and blue
velvet leather sofa,
the warm sip of the red wine
that goes merry go down my throat
relaxes all of my senses,
feeling complete I am, yes I do,
that brings me naturally to a fine
vineyard in a French campagne,
oak barreled fueled tanks
tangerine and raspberry flavours
tracks down the colours in my
wide and dilated pupils spiced up
with finest herbs man can ever find,

I listen to the wind whisper tender thoughts
through my ears,
erotic movements in my soul
walkin’ by these sweet and red Ballsbridge boulevards,
the rain pours down my shoulders
the suit shrinks
and the tie strangles
what was left of my youth,
no more hair long
no more piercing
or whatsoever,

That magic feeling wraps this unbelievable and disastrous
monotonous existence,
falling far from below away this tears that runs
through my cheeks,
believing the impossible that turns
just ‘round the corner,

Carry that weight,
carry that sweet rendezvous of the night
on your shoulders,
It’s only an island if you look it down
from the water,
no matter what’s to expect,
it’s a realization of your dreams
canalized in go go dances
under sad and weary neon lights,

People go by
go up
go down
go straight
go gay
go sad
go daylight
go night
go crazy
go fast
go sweet
go tender
go bollocks!

Walk down the bohemian
and crowded streets and
take a good look to the people,
delusion and broken hearted hobos,
lonesome travelers,
desolated angels,
on the road goers,
backpackers full of angelical curiosity,
anti-political killers of the system
desirous of everything,
the streets flow with satirical
and angry rhapsodies,
protest what's to protest
Strike! Create! Sing! Write!

Lay round your heart and play
with the beautiful side of life,

Look far from that dirty and weary
window of the small café,
you’ll be amused and find yourself
watching everybody undress
their souls in front of you,
shut your eyes for a moment
and imagine quintessential life stories
of these poor and torn bastards,
struggling to stay awake
from a nightmare
that hunts
us all,

The night comes all right,
bright and starry,
delightfully desperate
howls at the break of dawn,
in its sweet and gorgeous
lights the path
for the junkie,
who consoles his own
seeking true and restless happiness
in this bitter

But above all things,
believe in the power of
there’s always somebody out there
who’s willing
to tend us a light
at the end of the tunnel.

Capel Street, 10/12/06

Picture: O'Connell Street

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